The Serpent's Eye
by Deathhappens
Summary: I was shopping for a magazine. Little did I know that the nice old lady next to me was shopping for her favorite dinner: Demigod. It all went downhill from there.


A few things you need to know about me, before we get to the story.

One, I hate action movies with a passion. Doubly so with trashy 90´s movies which have somehow become "cult" in the last years and as such have been referenced, parodied, paid homage to and quoted to death.

Two, I don't respond well to pressure. Of any sort. By anyone. Just try to make me to do something I don't want to or am not sure about. Go ahead, I dare you. Chances are good you're going to convince me to do the exact opposite.

And three, I can't run to save my life.

Okay, that last one is not true. I can run when I need to save my life. Putting one's life in danger works miracles when it comes to tapping into unknown potentials in one's self.

And when your friendly neighbourhood old lady™ who was harmlessly browsing The Inquirer next to me a second ago started growing talons and hissing at me, I found out just how little I knew about myself. I_ would_ run like a bat out of hell in order to get away from that. I _would_, wordlessly, follow a stranger who walked funny and smelled curiously of barnyard animal when he grabbed my hand and yelled "this way!".

Even if he did follow it with "come with me if you want to live".

And thus, this is how I ended up in this situation: Running with my heart trying to jump out of my mouth, holding for dear life on to the hand of the mysterious stranger (again, ™) who had somehow or other apparently just rescued me from the talons of an old lady with a forked tongue and a bad taste in reading material. Regular knight in shining armour rescues the princess situation.

Except this particular knight was somehow running with a limp faster than I could run on my own perfectly healthy (if, admittedly, not at their top physical condition) legs, and this particular rescue appeared to be less the "vanquish the dreaded monster, then woo the damsel in distress" and more the "grab the distressed damsel and run for the hills" kind of type. Even as we crossed a busy New York street at midday without getting squished by the cars honking all around us (no mean feat, particularly since the mysterious stranger now appeared to have somehow lost both shoes) the old lady was right behind us, slithering around cars almost while barely slowing down. At this rate, we were going to end up mincemeat in less than thirty seconds and...

Hold up, did I just say "slithering"?

And yet, there was no doubt. Whatever you called it, the old lady had apparently grown a tail at some point and was using it to move at speeds no human legs would be able to match.

It was at that point that I realised that whatever was chasing me was most definitely Not Human.

I mean, it's silly. I had seen it grow talons and try to slice me to bits with them. It had grown a forked tongue and hissed at me. And yet, it hadn't hit me until now that I was witnessing –worse, participating! - in a scene that had no right of existing outside of a horror movie. And a particularly bad one, at that - what sort of self-respecting horror movie takes place at broad daylight?

Naturally, it was just as the realisation hit me that my mysterious saviour decided to suddenly stop, leading the still- shell-shocked me to bump into him for all I was worth. With an exaggerated "oof!" he tumbled down and I, most of my inertia intact, followed suit, falling head over shoulders over him. Way to go, princess. The fall somehow ended up bringing us eye to eye and I managed for the first time to steal a look at my saviour's face: large, brown eyes, a mop of curly hair that fell from his casket and covered his forehead, vaguely Hispanic features. He looked at me with an earnest (or perhaps it was just terrified –out-of-his-wits) look in his eyes and spoke clearly and precisely:

"If help doesn't come within the next five seconds, we're both going to die".

Well, so much for suave one-liners.

I managed to rise to a kneeling position, still feeling light-headed from the collision, having just enough clarity to see that the old lady/snake monster had managed to cross the avenue and was coming at us at full tilt. From this distance, I could count her talons one by one and see her forked tongue snaking in and out of her mouth at regular intervals. I dimly remembered a bit of useless trivia I'd picked up somewhere: The reason snakes flick their tongues out of their mouths is that it helps them taste the air and enhances their sense of smell, thus helping them better detect their prey. This particular lady seemed to have us dead to sights, her beady eyes perfectly focused, so I supposed for her it was more of a matter of habit. Hah, what a tasteless joke, a monster with bad habits...

I was about to die. There was nowhere to hide, no time to run. I could almost hear the snake lady hissing to herself: "Got you now, my pretty".

And I was absolutely, completely, and utterly calm.

Another bit of trivia: Since antiquity, survival instincts in both humans and animals have been honed to perfection to do one of two things in response to a predator bearing down on them:

Fight or flight.

Flight was right out. That only left fight.

Unheeding of my mind trying to explain to me the sheer ridiculousness of my decision, I forced myself to stand. I was still breathing hard from the running my unused-to-all-sorts-of-strenuous-activity body had done so far. Even if I was in perfect form, there was probably nothing I could do against _that. _This was a creature that had sliced through a wooden stand and stacks of magazines as if they hadn't been there. All of its body save for the face was now covered in hard, reptilian scales. I'd probably need a spear to pierce them. Or at least a knife small enough to stick between them. All I had on me was my favourite B22 pen in my shirt pocket.

Out of options, I drew the pen and held it in a vaguely threatening manner towards the approaching monstrosity. Maybe I could jab it into one of its eyes before those talons sliced me to bits. Maybe. Maybe pigs could fly. You never know. I'd dreamed of weirder things before.

The monster was now close enough for me to smell it, and wish I hadn't: Suffice it to say, rats left a week dead in the sewers didn't have a patch on the stench that _thing _exuded. I braced myself mentally. Ten meters, eight...Those beady eyes were practically glowing, filled with pleasure at having finally cornered her prey. She (_It)_ didn't seem to pay any attention to the fact that one of her victims was apparently prepared to make her work for her lunch, unleashing a predatory hiss as she suddenly accelerated, slithering in front of me before I had time to react, talons on either side poised to cut me in half...

When her pleasure suddenly turned into surprise as an arrow shaft suddenly sprung from her chest, right below the left breast -directly where its heart should be. It would have been a fatal blow for a human, but apparently monster physiology worked different, since all the monster displayed was a mask of fear and confusion as she quickly backpedalled (backslithered?) away from me.

"Nice attitude, newbie. Relax; The pros are here now".

I jumped at the sound of a voice right next to me, but when I looked I could see no one. Great, now I was hallucinating voices. Maybe this wasn't all as crazy as I'd originally thought. Maybe I was just dreaming all this and was about to wake up in my cozy bed back home in Brooklyn and laugh about the weird dream I'd had.

The snake lady/monster appeared to have different thoughts, though. Having retreated to what she apparently considered a safe distance, she was looking around, one taloned hand busy trying to pry the arrow from her chest, one held ready to strike."Daughterrr of Atheeena... Your cap won't ssssave you from meee... I... can ssseee youu!"Suddenly, she swiped at what appeared to be thin air... only for a blonde girl to appear out of nowhere in a crouching position as the monster's talons had apparently almost beheaded her. A (rather dirty) New York Yankees cap flew through the air and landed at my feet. Still crouching, the blonde jabbed at the monster's chest, forcing her to somehow jump back as the wicked sharp dagger the girl held nicked her cheek. Appearing completely unperturbed, she turned back at me. "Mind my cap for me, would you?"

Completely flabbergasted, I managed to say: "And the monster?"

Her gray eyes (at that alone, I was instantly jealous: I'd _always_ loved gray eyes, ever since I'd started reading_ Skip Beat_) flashed, but her tone was even. "Leave the monster to me".

Meanwhile, of course, the snake lady was throwing what could best be decided as a hissy fit.

"My... my ffface! My beautiful ffface! Curse you, Daughter of Athena! Curse you! You will suffer a thousand deaths at my hands!"

The part of me that was somehow remaining sane through the madness remarked sarcastically:

"Now there's someone who doesn't look in a mirror often."

The rest of me was busy trying to convince me that if this was a dream, right about now would be a good time to wake up.

If this was a dream, though, it must have been digging through some pretty damn deep buried memories, since I could never for the life of me have imagined the sheer grace and technique the blonde exhibited. Almost faster than my eye could follow, she closed in on the snake lady and jabbed at her face again. As she, enraged, tried to slash at her, she side-stepped around her, cleverly twisting her center of balance to conserve her momentum. The snake lady's frenzied attack carried her forward, and, before she could realise her target was no longer in front of her, the fight was over: Changing her grip to backhand, the girl stabbed her underneath the ribs at precisely the opposite point of where the arrow was still jutting out. With an ungodly wail, the snake lady collapsed...into...a vaguely yellowy dust.

Ok, 90% certain that I was dreaming now.

Dusting herself off, the blonde returned her dagger to a sheath under her arm and started moving towards me. Her gray eyes watched me warily as she approached slowly, almost as if I was another monster she might have to fight.

"It's alright. The lamia is dead. You can put your... pen... down now."

Numbly, I looked down at my left hand. Yes, apparently I was still holding on to my pen, and so tightly my knuckles were turning white. Worse, I was still somewhat holding it out in the same mockery of a combat position I'd had it in the first place. Feeling doubly foolish after having seen what a true fight looked like, I recapped it and placed it back in my shirt pocket.

So much for the dream theory. No way would I ever dream of something as routine as having to recap my pen before placing it in my favourite place on my shirt - a reflex which in real life had cost me more than one hopelessly ink-stained shirt.

My movement seemed to help the blonde relax as she bent down and retrieved her cap. After giving it a good dusting down, however, instead of wearing it, she replaced it in the combination satchel/laptop bag that hung from her shoulder. I gave her a good once-over as she did so: long, blonde hair bound in a ponytail, startling grey eyes, tan, obviously athletic, slightly taller than me...

Another point in the not-a-dream theory. I had my share of weird dreams, but no way would I dream of a girl this pretty. Unless she turned out to secretly be a boy, well, then...

Which, of course, lead to another question.

"Could someone please explain to me what the ef is going on?"

There. I swore. Not something I did often, but hey, I was a New Yorker. A New Yorker from Brooklyn, at that. Swearing comes with the territory.

The blonde, satisfied that her cap was secure in its place, turned her attention on me. I could feel it again: Those grey eyes, probing me, analyzing me, the way I stood, what I was wearing, the words I'd just said, my accent, the best way to take me down in a fight... It should have been disconcerting. Disturbing, even. Instead, it felt strangely familiar.

At last, it seemed like she'd settled on what to tell me. "Long story, not enough time. After this stunt, every monster from here to the Central Station will be looking for us. We've got to keep moving. Tracheus, can you move?" This to the mysterious stranger™.

"Am I still alive?"

The girl seemed to repress the urge to sigh. "Yes Tracheus, you're alive. For now."

The not-so-mysterious-anymore-stranger got up cautiously, and stomped the ground with his feet, perhaps trying to make sure he was still solid. No, wait, scratch that. Not his feet, his hooves. Now that I had time to observe, I could see that where normal humans have feet, he had cloven hooves. Well, that explained the limp.

Did you expect me to be surprised? Helloo, snake monster tried to slice me? At this point, my brain was too busy worrying about everything else to even add "has cloven hooves for feet" to the list of weird things I was worrying about. Get in line, get your ticket. Bigger things happening right now.

At that point, I noticed another walking source of weird approaching. At first glance, I would have identified him, as one of my friends would put it, as a grade-S for Sizzling bishie: Blond hair cut short at exactly the right length, a tan that no solarium could possibly ever achieve, features so fine they appeared chiselled and a smile so blindingly white I felt like I needed sunglasses just to look at it. It was precisely that smile that marred his good impression, hough: It was the kind of smile that said "I'm beautiful and I know it, don't you wish you could look as good as me?"

That wasn't what classified him as weird, though. The curved bow and quiver full of arrows that hung from his back and appeared to be ... glowing? Did the job.

"Hey there, Annabeth, I saw what you did with the lamia, good job! Annnnd, is that the new recruit?" He whistled. "Well helloooooo, nurse! It was about time we got a new hottie in the camp".

"Michael" the girl declared in a frosty tone. "Did you finally decide to join us? I almost thought you'd decided to take a beauty nap. Again."

"Oh, come now, Annie-girl, you wound me."He sighed theatrically. "You know my first shot was dead on. Ran her heart right through. After that, well, I thought you could handle it. How was I supposed to know lamias don't die from having their hearts pierced?"

If the girl's response had been frosty before, her tone right now was positively arctic. "As you would know, IF you ever bothered to pay attention to monster slaying classes, Michael, lamias _do_ die from having their hearts pierced like most any other monster... except their hearts are on the _right _side of their chests. And, for the last time, MY NAME IS NOT ANNIE-GIRL.".

If anything, I had to give this to this playboy wannabe: he didn't give up easily. "Why are you so cold to me, Annie-girl? Is it my fault I'm too cool for school? And when did I become Michael? I thought I told you you can call me Mike when it's the two of us. It was supposed to be our little secret".

The last line appeared to finally make the blonde reach the end of her patience. "For the last time, Michael. I! Have! A! Boyfriend!" Before the playboy could interrupt, she continued. "A boyfriend which, by the way, would kick your ass if he found out you were hassling me! And for what_ that's_ worth, we're not even "just the two of us" here!"

The last argument seemed to take the wind out of the sails of the wannabe playboy... only for him to turn back to me, looking me over apprehensively. I did a mental facedesk of despair. After all the running, the almost-getting run-over-by-speeding-cars, the nearly-but-not-quite getting sliced by a snake lady and the miraculously-getting-saved-by-a-knife-wielding...g irl, I now apparently had to deal with a pushy wannabe-playboy who despite his good looks apparently barely had the brain cells to add three and three together. I mentally slammed my head on my mental projection of a desk once again. Why did it always have to be me?

Fortunately, it seemed whatever gods there were out there were in a good mood: The girl (Annabeth, I reminded myself), spoke to the archer again: "We need to get her back to the van quickly. I'll walk and talk with her, you go scout from up high. Cover us if something happens."

"Hey, I could totally do that walk and talk thing, if you want to take up the bow..."he trailed off.

Annabeth just stared at him intently, arms crossed around her chest.

"Ok, fine. I guess I'll do the scouting" he said, defeated. Then he perked up. "But before I leave, won't you at least give your knight a name, princess?"

I turned to the blonde, hoping from help, but she just stared at me, inscrutably. I sighed, defeated. "Celine. My name's Celine."

As soon as the name left my lips, I realised something was wrong. Annabeth seemed startled, her eyes widening imperceptibly. The hoof-footed miracle, Tracheus, who had been quietly munching on a nearby fern until now, choked on a leaf stalk.

The blonde playboy's reaction wasn't as pronounced as that of the other two, but there was something about the smile he revealed that was downright scary compared to the one from before. "Celine, huh? A beautiful name for a beautiful girl! Well, I guess I've got to go scouting now. Loyal knight, reporting for duty!" And with those words, he turned and vanished.

I turned towards Annabeth. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

She had it pretty much under control by then, but I could see she was still shaken."No, nothing. It's just that, well... Your name is similar to a friend of ours. It's a long story, and I really ought to explain the basics first."

I could tell there was more, but I knew she wasn't going to tell me just then. I opted for something simpler:

"Where to?"

Obviously relieved, she replied: "Not far, for now. Just walk with me and stay close."

We started walking at a brisk pace down 32nd Street as the girl with blonde hair and grey eyes told me about the gods in my life.

"So you're telling me Greek Gods are real."

"Yes."

"And they live right here, in America."

"Mm-hmm."

"And Mount Olympus is now sitting at the top of the Empire State Building."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but, basically, yes."

"And sometimes these, these Greek Gods, get it down with a mortal and they wind up having a child, a demigod."

"That's right. Though we mostly go by half-blood these days."

"And you, me, and that obnoxious pretty-boy that was with you, are all supposed to be that."

This time she just nodded.

I shook my head once. Nope. Tried to pinch myself. Hurt.

Then I decided to just roll with it.

"So which God is his parent? Is there a Greek God for failed playboys?"

She grimaced. "Apollo. God of the Sun, Music, Poetry, Prophecy, Healing, and Archery."

I whistled. "With all those under his domains, no wonder his ego is so overinflated. So that guy is supposed to be good at all of these things?"

"Mostly. Children of Apollo know a lot about healing, they're usually good musicians, some few of them have a limited gift for prophecy, and yes, almost all of them are perfect archers. Bunch of show offs with a basketball though."

I laughed at that, the first joke I'd heard her make so far. Her expression softened a bit as well."Look, you'll meet all sorts of types at camp. They might be a bit obnoxious, or try to challenge you to a death match (the Ares cabin), or attempt to match-make you to three different guys at the same time(Aphrodite cabin, don't ask), but they're all good people. They're our family -for some of us, the only family we have."

I bit at that. "You mentioned this camp before. What did you call it? Camp True-Blood?"

"Camp Half-Blood." She nodded. "It's like a summer camp where you train to be a hero.  
Monster slaying, sword fighting, archery, javelin-throwing, lava climbing wall..."

She must have seen me going paler with every word, because she tried to correct the first impression "...silly camp songs, s'mores over the campfire, capture-the-flag, canoe racing..."

"I... I'm not very athletic." I whispered. "I don't think I can do all that. Are you sure you have the right person?"

She nodded at that, her face once again serious. "Look, Celine, I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you're a demigod. There's no doubt about it. The sooner you accept it, the better."

"But... all those things you said."I weakly tried to argue. "There's no way I could do any of this stuff. I can barely run laps around the track back at school. Hell, not even one lap, singular." I made a pathetic attempt at a joke.

Annabeth's expression suddenly became unreadable. "Let me guess a couple of things about you, Celine".

I didn't speak, waiting for her to continue.

"You've been diagnosed with dyslexia. Possibly ADHD, too."

I gasped at that. How could she possibly have known?

"Since you were a kid, you've been seeing dreams where weird creatures appear. Probably threatening to eat you."

I froze, right there and then. In the middle of the sidewalk. Annabeth stopped right next to me and continued ruthlessly. "You might have been given medication, but it did nothing. Even when you pretend they're just dreams, deep down, you know they're not. You have a fascination with fantasy and ancient mythology, particularly tales of ancient Greek and Roman origin."

I finally managed to interrupt her. "How did you-."

" -know? Simple. Because I -and nearly every other demigod- are more or less the same.

You're impulsive, can't sit still at class- those are your combat instincts, warning you of danger. A great many monsters like to disguise themselves as teachers nowadays- it gives them a legitimate outlet for their sadism." She suddenly cracked a smile. "Okay, that last part was a joke. You read English but the letters just don't seem to make sense- that's because your brain is hardwired for reading Ancient Greek. Those dreams you have- they're not dreams, they're real. Stuff you'd seen through the Mist that a part of your brain knew were true but the rest of it didn't want to accept. They were suppressed from your consciousness but floated to the surface in your subconscious at night. Other times they're visions, prophetic images- they come to all of us from time to time, showing us things from the past, the present, or even the future if you're lucky. What you did back there when the lamia attacked- an ordinary human would have probably died of fright, assuming he could see her at all. You, even though you were unarmed and untrained, improvised a weapon and formulated a plan of action to fight her. That's something that not many demigods, even experienced ones, would be able to do in that short notice, by the way. So, long story short, yes, unfortunately for you, you are definitely a half-blood."

I started walking again, trying to take it all in. All of a sudden, I, Celine A. Fell, had gone from an ordinary high-schooler who liked to read manga and draw in her spare time to a monster-fighting demigod hero. And it had taken no magical artefact, no staff, no cards, not even a magic pen, no transformation sequence, no adorable pet.

All in all, it was a rather disappointing way to change one's life. Hell, I would settle for just the pet.

But this was no time for idle thoughts. Focus, Celine!

"This is the third time you've mentioned that Mist thing, and somehow I don't think you mean the normal kind either." I pointed out. Annabeth nodded at that.

"You're right." she said. "Good to know you're paying attention. The Mist is just a name for the magical force that hides supernatural matters from the eyes of mortals. The lamia that was chasing you, for example, would appear to an ordinary human as a runaway car, or perhaps a rogue lawn mower - anything they could wrap their little heads around believing, besides accepting the truth. Monsters use it naturally and, with a little training, so do we. That's how I cleared the square where I was fighting the lamia from passers-by when I came to help."

" 'Oo 'old 'ave 'um 'snr!" Tracheus interjected for the first time. It appeared that he'd found the fern he had been biting back at the square particularly tasty, as he was carrying a rather large part of it with him and even now spoke with his mouth full.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I SAID you could have come sooner! Five seconds later and we would both have been toast!"

Annabeth...did not look like a happy camper. "Blame Michael. He had to get his hair done before we left."

"And you couldn't find anyone else to take with you?" Tracheus demanded while simultaneously cleaning his teeth with a particularly long stalk off the fern.

"Well NEXT time perhaps you could find your protégée and collect him or her before the resident lamia sniffs them out and decides to take a bite!" She retorted. "We're here, by the way".

"Where's here?" The only thing I could see where she was standing was a white van with a sign depicting a strawberry field. Trying to read the cursive script around it proved to be too much of a challenge for my dyslexia, so I gave up. I decided to focus instead on the guy who popped out from the driver's seat to greet Annabeth.

"Argus, meet our new recruit, Celine. Celine, this is Argus, the camp's security chief. He came with us to, uh, keep an eye on things."

"You don't say." Argus looked every bit the stereotypical surfer dude, except apparently his whole body was covered in bright blue eyes. The eye on his left shoulder winked at me. Oh, and he was blonde, too. Was it a demigod thing?

Muttering a "pleasure to meet you", I followed Annabeth to the back of the van. "You know, this almost looks like the setup to something completely different. Except there's no way anyone could possibly fake that...thing."

Annabeth gave me a blank look. Evidently, either she didn't have much contact with the Internet or she simply didn't browse the same kind of sites as I did.

"Well", she said as she climbed in the back of the van, "this is it." As far as I could see, the van was loaded with some empty pallets, of the kind used for transporting foodstuffs, and nothing more. Annabeth made herself comfortable on one and motioned to one of the others, presumably asking me to join her.

"This is...what?" My voice must have made my confusion obvious, as she looked up at me, evidently surprised..

"Like I said, this is the camp's van. Get in, we're in a hurry. And don't worry about Michael, since he's late again, he can take a cab. He can afford it."

Worrying about the blonde playboy was something that hadn't even entered my list of worries. I felt slightly guilty at that. Sure, he didn't know how to take no for an answer, but he HAD helped in saving my life. Nevertheless, I had other problems now.

"Just like that? What about my family? My life? I can't just vanish like that! I have an art lesson at 7!"

The moment the words left my mouth, I realised how childish and silly I sounded. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had an ART LESSON! I'll let the monster know so she can attack you at a more convenient time, next time...

I averted my eyes, expecting the inevitable scathing retort- and from what I'd seen, Annabeth was GOOD at those. Instead, I was surprised to hear her tell me in a soft voice:

"I understand."

I was so surprised I turned to her again, without realising it. She was also looking at me, but not with the angry expression I expected. It was...apprehensive?

"You don't want to leave your father alone. I... can understand that. Demigods are not really allowed to carry mobile phones with us- it's almost as good as carrying a sign that says "please eat me". But... I have one. You can call your dad, if you want. It'll be our little secret." She gave me a faint smile. "As for your art lesson, I'm afraid you're going to have to take a pass."  
I smiled back. I guess, all in all, this "demigod" stint wasn't all bad.  
After all, it seemed like I had made a friend.

_(More author's notes. Beware!)_

_Well, to be honest, I don't have much to say about this piece. I sat at my computer one day, decided I'd finally write the third chapter of my poor supposedly-serial story, and this came out instead. I rather like it, even though it's so many clichés taped together it's almost funny, and I know I lifted some (probably the best) scenes directly from the original, like Annabeth's explanation_ (The Lightning Thief)_ or the heartwarming phone scene at the end (_Heroes of Olympus). _But, there you go._

_Was it any good? Should I continue it or should I leave it hanging? Please, please please please, if you found the story interesting give me some feedback to work with ^^)_


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